hope like honey on biscuits….

She is busy,
hurrying to make it through the list in her hands
and those long hours before the littles thronging her
grow tired and finally sigh into their pillows.

I watch her hands,
dazzled at their freedom
to tossle her children’s hair or stroke a young cheek
or whisk them up and swing them until they’re laughing dizzy

And I ache for one more chance
to drop to my knees
and quiet my ruckus
and listen wholehearted to my long ago littles
for as long as they need
and not rush it along,
smiling comfort into priceless souls
with soft, slow eyes.

Instead,  I wrestle through to letting go
and trust them to eyes that never sleep,
eyes that see them still,
even grown and gone,
with a love that can slice through any dark
like a million candles flickering
on the altar where I lay my fear down.

And when the longing bubbles up inside
to comfort my young ones again,
I skim the foam into words
and drizzle them over bites of art
like honey on biscuits
and leave them to find other eyes
that need them now
and maybe hunger for the hope
they bring.

“go ahead and keep this…..it found YOU.
Just a little love note from the universe
to nudge your hope
that it’s all gonna be okay.”

(linking with a fresh crisp breeze)